


Get Home

by NonnieHolly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:26:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4459940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NonnieHolly/pseuds/NonnieHolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles stands Derek up for the third time, the werewolf decides to confront him. What he doesn't expect is for Stiles to come home smelling of sex with someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Home

**Author's Note:**

> Titled for the Bastille song of the same name.
> 
> Content warning for graphic sexual assault, guns, and for partner violence.

_Stiles pulled over with a sigh. He knew he'd been speeding, but it hadn't been that bad, had it? He frowned as the officer stepped up to him. "Are you new? I don't recognize you," he told the officer._

He didn't realize until it was too late that the officer was neither new nor an officer. He wrenched Stiles' door open, pointing a gun at him. "Get out," he ordered calmly. Stiles hesitated and the gun was waved and pointed at him forcefully. "Get out and open the back of your Jeep."

Stiles felt like a moron as he saw the car wasn't even the right make. He'd just seen the lights and pulled over in the middle of nowhere. No one was going to find him here. No one traveled this road this late at night. He was only on it because he and Derek had a spot in the middle of the woods. Even if Derek came looking, he wouldn't pass this section of road. He didn't use roads. Opening the back of the Jeep, he was shoved roughly so that he was bent over the bumper and his face was smashed into the rug. "You don't know me, but your daddy does," the man sneered as he rubbed Stiles' face into the painfully rough rug. Stiles struggled as the man pressed his hips against his ass but the barrel of the gun was jabbed painfully into his spine.

"Okay, okay, I get it," he babbled unsteadily. "Just... be careful with that thing, okay?"

The gun rubbed up and down his spine and Stiles almost peed himself in fear. "Pull your pants down." Stiles was frozen in shock until the gun jabbed him again. He complied because he had no idea what else to do. Before he knew what was happening, the gun was in his ass and he was crying out in pain. "Cry all you want," the man said coldly. "This is what you deserve. I hope your daddy gets the message." 

As the gun moved in and out, Stiles was convinced it was tearing him open. He could hear the man unzipping his pants and spitting and soon the gun had been replaced by a strange cock. He was too numb with shock to even cry. The man came quickly, stinging Stiles' raw insides. Did he not care about leaving evidence behind? Stiles didn't know why he was thinking about that right now. "You stay like that. You count to three hundred and you stay like that the whole time."

Stiles almost fell as the man stopped pressing into him, but he knew the gun was still nearby. He knew it would be until the man was gone. He heard the car door slam and the engine turn over before it roared away and his legs finally gave out. He laid on the ground for several minutes feeling dead inside, not knowing if he wanted to get up. He finally did, if only to save himself from being discovered curled up on the road with his pants around his ankles. He got up, brushing away the gravel, pulling his pants back up. There were hand shaped bruises on his hips that made him slightly nauseated, but it still didn't feel real. He shut the back of his Jeep and got inside. He started driving with the only destination in his mind of "away" until he realized he had to turn around or risk running out of gas.

Derek waited. Stiles had been adamant that he was going to show up this time, but as fifteen minutes turned into twenty, the werewolf could feel his mood darkening. By 30, he was angry, and by 45 he was raging. By 60, he'd made up his mind to confront Stiles. He shifted and raced to the Stilinski house. The sheriff wasn't home and it seemed likely that he was pulling an all-nighter at the sheriff's office. Derek did what he normally did and climbed into Stiles' room through his window. It was empty. So Stiles wasn't even home. Derek sat in the chair in the corner and waited. Another hour passed as he brooded and finally he heard Stiles at the front door. He was nervous about something. Derek could hear him fumbling with his keys. "You'll just get a shower and everything will be fine," he was saying to himself. "Derek won't smell anything, and nothing bad will happen. Just take a shower and pull yourself together."

The werewolf tried not to jump to any conclusions, but a small growl formed in his throat. His suspicions were confirmed when Stiles opened the door and he reeked of strange semen. "So not only do you stand me up, you go and fuck some other guy," he said in a steady but dangerous voice.

Stiles whirled around, startled, looking afraid of Derek. He should be. Derek knew how terrifying he looked. He knew his eyes were flashing with something more than human. He was hurt and furious and not about to back down. Stiles was shaking his head. "I didn't-"

"I can smell him on you!" Derek snarled as he shoved Stiles roughly into the wall. Stiles was still shaking his head. "You could at least tell me you don't want to be with me, you stupid child!"

He knew he'd shifted and he almost felt guilty as Stiles started to shake. "Derek, please," he begged in an unsteady voice. He let go. Not because he'd been asked, but because he was done. He was ready to leave.

"Goodbye, Stiles." he said and turned to leave.

"Derek, no-" Stiles started crying. "Wait-"

He turned and said coldly. "Cry all you want. This is what you deserve."

He was going to leave, but Stiles went stiff at his words, completely checked out. Derek frowned and looked a little closer. Half of his face was raw, like it'd been scrubbed with sandpaper. He was startled as Stiles collapsed to his knees and then to his side, curling in on himself. He was mumbling something. Derek could hear him clearly, but his words weren't spoken clearly. He thought he heard his name, something about hating him, not wanting him, being... broken. "Stiles?" he asked uncertainly.

He knelt down next to the unresponsive young man. "Stiles?" he repeated. He was worried now. He reached out to touch Stiles' arm and he flinched away bodily. "Stiles, you're scaring me."

"He's gone," Stiles sobbed. "He's gone, he hates me, I'm broken."

"Stiles!" Derek said forcefully and grabbed him, forcing him into a hug in spite of the fact that Stiles was fighting, punching him even. "Stiles!"

"Don't touch me, please don't touch me," he sobbed. "Please don't hurt me, please..."

He hugged him tight. "I'll never hurt you, Stiles. Tell me what happened."

"Derek," the young man sobbed. He fingers fisted into the werewolf's shirt, clinging to him desperately. "Derek..."

"Stiles... what happened?"

"I think it was someone my dad locked up," he cried.

Everything in the werewolf went cold. "Were you attacked? Did he attack you?" As he felt Stiles nod against him, he saw red. He was going to tear this man apart one bite at a time until he was dead. He was going to bite off his fingers one by one, scratch his skin into ribbons...

"Please don't leave me," Stiles begged and Derek was brought back to himself. He nuzzled Stiles and promised that he would never. Finally calming down, Stiles said in a small voice, "I want to take a shower." 

Derek nodded and helped him up. "I'll bring you some fresh clothes."

He heard Stiles disappear down the hall and went into his drawers to find sweatpants and a t-shirt he knew Stiles felt good in. He left them outside the bathroom door instead of knocking. He returned to the chair he'd been sitting in, brooding for a completely different reason. He pulled out his phone and found Scott's number. "Someone with a grudge against Sheriff Stilinski attacked Stiles. Free your night tomorrow. We're going hunting," he texted the Alpha. He shut off his phone, not needing to see if Scott replied and wanting to make sure there were no interruptions if Stiles wanted him to stay. Whoever did this was going to pay.


End file.
